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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994136">Bang Bang, That Awful Sound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/letbygones/pseuds/letbygones'>letbygones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Promare (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Roles, BDSM, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Dungeon parties, Edgeplay, Impact Play, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Porn with entirely too much plot, Public Scene, Rope Bondage, Spreader Bars, Trans Lio Fotia, collaring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/letbygones/pseuds/letbygones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>"I think you should collar me" is the sexy, sexy sentence that causes Lio to choke on his Crunchwrap Supreme.</p><p>*** </p><p>Lio and Galo are two showy Tops in their local kink community... until Galo insists they don't have to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bang Bang, That Awful Sound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>c/w: feminine words briefly used for transmasc parts.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lio spots him across the room on Newbie Night.</p><p>How could he not, with the way the man dresses?  His pants are form-fitting, with reflective stripes running down the length of each leg. Lio can tell he commits to his workouts— does squats, maybe, judging by the curve of his ass. It's nice. He likes a man with a shallow side. They're easier to predict.</p><p>The idiot's shamelessly shirtless, which is a bad idea, because he's swinging cross-body tonight. Lio watches him wince every time his flogger slaps his own back on the follow-through, but then he grins, like he's doing it on purpose. </p><p>"C'mon, it's no fun if the Bottom gets all the pain!" he announces to a group of starry-eyed onlookers. He's got them captivated, all six of them, and they lean forward in their leather-upholstered seats when his Bottom starts to moan. </p><p>Lio crosses his legs.</p><p>Mech, as the man's known to the rest of the club, leans forward and checks in with his willing victim. He gathers them up by the roots of their hair and gently tilts their head to the side. He's probably asking for a color, or a number, or any other sign of approval to continue. All the while, he's keeping a gentle rhythm going, knocking the weighted butt of the flogger across the back of their thighs. Just enough to keep them engaged, Lio knows. Just enough to tide them over.</p><p>But then he steps back, away from the padded bench his Bottom's strapped up to. He kicks a duffel bag out from underneath a couch, and after a moment of digging, he retrieves a second, identical flogger. Really, Lio thinks, he should've had that ready to go— Mech's always flashy, energetic and fun, but his lack of foresight is painful to watch. It ruins his flow.</p><p>If Lio didn't know better (and he always knows better, when it comes to these things), he would've pegged Mech as an amateur. He's young and he's careless, at times, but he's good enough to offer tastings and tutorials to anyone who asks. He carries himself like a Toppy Top— the overconfident, under-educated men Lio hates engaging with. Somehow, Mech isn't one of them. He's always smiling; even when a scene goes wrong, he's quick on his feet and good at lightening the mood. </p><p>Thing is, there are subtleties that Lio keeps catching, tiny characteristics that show Mech's been doing this for a long time. One of the least subtle clues is when he starts swinging Florentine on 6-counts. There's a sudden windmill of motion and a couple of whistles from his audience.</p><p><em>Attention whore,</em> Lio thinks fondly, before rising from his cocktail table and sidling up to the bar.</p><p>Meis is working tonight, probably pro-bono. He gets free club admission when he does that. It's not a bad trade-off, Lio thinks, considering the cost of entry.</p><p>"You drinking?" Meis asks him, slamming the Redbull minifridge shut with his boot.</p><p>"Not tonight," Lio says. "I'm doing tastings after he's done. Maybe play around for a bit too if I'm not tired."</p><p>"You're doing a scene on Newbie night?" Meis asks doubtfully. He sets a tall glass down on the bar rail and fills it to the top with water. "Someone's itching to show off."</p><p>Lio doesn't answer. He turns his attention back to Mech.</p><p>"... Or, someone's jealous?" Meis tries again. </p><p>"I'm not jealous," Lio says, much too quickly.</p><p>A shriek of happy pain erupts from underneath Mech's hand.</p><p>Meis slides Lio a napkin and a look.</p><p>Okay, yeah, <em>maybe</em>. Sure. He's jealous. He wants Mech to hurry up; he's dragging things out on purpose now. And hell, there's no reason to pull out all the stops for a bunch of newcomers. Many of them come and go, and some of them never return at all. Whether it's the price, the shame, or the misguided expectations of what a dungeon even <em>was</em>, Lio couldn't say. They're entitled to their reasons and their privacy.</p><p>But <em>fuck</em>, he likes to compete. Something about the way Mech commands the floor makes his blood catch fire— makes his brain <em>melt down.</em> He's hot, but Lio's hotter. He's good, but Lio's <em>better</em>.</p><p>Mech's thirsty now, probably, because his nearby glass is empty. </p><p>Unarguably, unabashedly, Lio's just as thirsty, if not thirstier.</p><p>He mutters a thank-you to Meis and departs from the bar, weaving between people in biker vests and leather thongs. He positions himself on the edge of an armchair, directly to the right of Mech's workspace. The vinyl sticks to his skin when he sits— he's scantily-clad too, for now— and he waits, legs open, heels flat on the floor.</p><p>The water glass stays perfectly perched on his open palm, like an offering.</p><p>Slowly, Mech notices him. His eyes are dark and shining, like he's <em>excited</em>, like he's <em>enjoying</em> this entirely too much. Lio doesn't move. Doesn't blink. He stays perfectly still for a moment longer than he needs to, before slowly, lethally, sliding into a smirk.</p><p>"One sec," Mech chuckles nervously, eyeing the water in Lio's hands. "Lemme finish up."</p><p>He's sweaty and glistening under the tract lights, like a perfectly campy rockstar. It's an appropriate word, Lio thinks, because that's what Mech sees himself as— it's what he deserves to be called. He's nothing short of a performer: always entertaining, always giving back to those who adore him, and Lio <em>intimately</em> knows how much Mech loves to be adored.</p><p>When the moment de-escalates— after the satisfied Bottom's properly attended to, cared for, and released back into the wild, Mech finally sets his weapons aside. He's all smiles, all energy, and he floats over to Lio no less dangerously than ball lightning.</p><p>"Ruin," he greets him, canines showing when he grins. He gently lifts the glass out of Lio's hands.</p><p>"Mech," Lio answers, tongue heavy in his mouth.</p><p>They wait for the water to disappear down Galo's throat, before pulling each other into a kiss. It's needy and deep and Lio giggles the entire time, latching onto his sweaty husband with gloved forearms. Some of their onlookers look away— some of them try not to stare, and fail.</p><p>Please. If the two of them wanted <em>privacy</em>, they'd stay at home. Who were Lio Fotia and Galo Thymos to deny the world of their powerful synergy and bad ideas?</p><p>Galo pulls back first, catching his breath. "Sorry I ran over on time. I was in the <em>zone</em>," he says, bringing a hand down to cradle Lio's waist. "Hope you weren't too bored hanging out by yourself."</p><p>"Truthfully, I was having plenty of fun pretending I didn't know you," Lio tuts.</p><p>"Damn, was I <em>that bad?</em>"</p><p>"No," Lio says, taking Galo's full weight as the man plops into his lap.  "That wasn't sarcasm. I think we should roleplay strangers in a bar sometime."</p><p>"And have you shut me down all over again, Fotia?" Galo grins against Lio's ear. "You don't play hard to get, you <em>are</em> hard to get—"</p><p>Lio fondly shoves his face away.  "Ughh, go sanitize the bench already."</p><p>They spend their Thursday nights like this, and sometimes Saturdays too. They flirt and they fight and they service the crowd in ways they can't quite label— thing is, individually, they both retain a Dominant role. They take questions and teach techniques, and sometimes they simply enjoy each other's company. With a work schedule like Galo's, they don't often get to do that anymore.</p><p>But when they play together, things start to fall apart.</p><p>Confusingly. Delightfully.</p><p>"Fine, <em>Boss</em>," Galo groans, rising to his feet again.</p><p>It's nice when he listens. Lio watches him chat up a DM for a squirt bottle and disinfecting rag, and he dutifully wipes down the surface of the bench. Lio guesses that's his cue to start unpacking his own tools of the trade, but when he stands up, he's interrupted by a newcomer.</p><p>"Hey, Ruin, was it?" she asks, hiding her mouth behind a wine glass. It's almost empty.</p><p>Lio nods encouragingly. "Yeah, hi. Welcome. You are?"</p><p>"Thym— I mean," she pauses, smiling flat and puffy. "Sorry. Do I use my real name here?"</p><p>"If you want," Lio shrugs. "Most of us don't."</p><p>"Oooh, okay," she says, before coming to another pause. "I don't have a nickname to use yet, sorry."</p><p>Lio smiles sympathetically. "No apologies needed. It's really not a big deal."</p><p>And he's honest about that, for the most part. While he personally cherishes his alias— short for <em>RoadToRuin</em>, poetic and appropriately cheesy— he doesn't have the heart to tell her Galo's full FetLife name is <em>MechaFuck</em>.</p><p>He motions for her to follow as he heads toward the lockers. </p><p>"I'm running short on time, so you'll have to forgive me for being so rude," he says, squatting down to pop open his padlock. He gathers up a wad of towels, a bag of supplies, and a small bottle of grip dust. He briefly considers changing out of his heels, but then remembers who he <em>is</em>— what happens when he stands tall, looks good, and cracks a singletail whip.</p><p>The heels stay on. He has somebody important to upstage.</p><p>"It's fine," the girl says, sounding confused. "Is Mech doing another tasting?"</p><p>Lio clicks the locker door shut and snorts. "No, he's tapped out for the night. Two hours is a long time to swing a flogger," he explains, straightening up. "But depending on what you're looking for, I'll be starting one up in a few minutes."</p><p>There's a hesitation between them that lingers too long. Lio watches her spin the wine glass by its stem, anxiously sloshing the shallow pool inside. "Oh," she says, and he immediately realizes where this conversation is going. <em>Where it always goes</em>. "Sorry, I just thought—"</p><p>"That I'm Mech's sub, right?"</p><p>Her face falls and reddens. "Yeah," she squeaks. "That's not right, is it."</p><p>"Not in the least, but it's okay," Lio lies. "I get that a lot."</p><p>"You just— I was watching you, earlier, and you did the <em>thing</em>, with your hands and the water —" She winces. "I shouldn't have assumed."</p><p>Lio shifts on his feet and tries to look like he's patient. "We're married. We flip a lot of expectations, I guess. And besides," he shrugs, "There are hundreds of ways to do something right. Personally, I like to avoid all of them— as safely as possible, of course."</p><p>And with that, he salutes her like sailor and steps back into the dungeon space, heels echoing off the locker room tile.</p><p>He's particularly mean to his Bottoms tonight.</p><p>***</p><p>"I think you should collar me" is the sexy, sexy sentence that causes Lio to choke on his Crunchwrap Supreme.</p><p>Galo tries his best to pound on Lio's back without laughing too hard. They're splayed naked across the couch at home— sometime just after midnight, after they've parked their bikes and trudged upstairs and stripped down in the entryway. They'd smooched against the door, teased each other's rain-soaked hair, and gotten straight down to business— that is, digging their orders out of a wet paper bag. Through a lungful of Taco Bell takeout, Lio decides that he's too young and too in love to die.</p><p>"Fuck," he wheezes, coughing into his fist. Galo hits his back again, harder, and he dislodges the blockage enough to breathe. "<em>Christ</em>— what did you just say?"</p><p>"Sorry babes," Galo offers, panic melting off his face. "Are you okay?"</p><p>"No," Lio shakes his head, leaning forward between his legs. "I mean, now I am, yeah. <em>What did you just say</em>."</p><p>"What? The collar thing?"</p><p>"Yeah. Did I hear you correctly?"</p><p>"Did you?"</p><p>"I think I did," Lio says miserably, reaching for a sip of soda. He takes a long, curative swig before passing the cup to Galo.</p><p>"Thanks," he mutters, setting it aside. "Sorry. I didn't think it'd surprise you like that. Are you sure you're okay?"</p><p>Whether Galo means physically or emotionally, Lio can never be sure.</p><p>For the past three days, he's been trying to soothe his ego. It isn't like him to obsess; it's only natural that the new girl would see his act of service as a sign of formal submission. Hell, isn't that what is <em>was?</em> He loves Galo with the whole of his being. He <em>worships</em> him, when he asks to be worshiped— or more importantly, when Galo insists he doesn't deserve it. Lio has no issue showing he cares, no issue Bottoming in public; they switch all the time, their scenes are pushy and fun and ambiguous—</p><p>So why did the "sub" comment bug him so much? </p><p>Why does looking vulnerable, even for a night's worth of roleplaying, suddenly skin Lio so <em>raw?</em></p><p>"Sorry," Lio says, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I'm fine. I just didn't expect you to say that."</p><p>Galo's eyebrows are screwed up to his forehead, but he lovingly butts Lio in the shoulder. "Should I un-say it? I know collars are like, a big deal."</p><p>Lio shakes his head. "They can be, I guess. Never pegged you as the type to want one."</p><p>"What? Why not? I think it'd be funny," Galo shrugs. He settles a hand on top of Lio's tiny kneecap. "Maybe it'll help with the assumptions, you know?"</p><p>The packet of hot sauce in Lio's lap is printed with the phrase <strong>Is it me, or is it hot in here?</strong> He stares at it. Judges it. </p><p>
  <em>It wouldn't be funny, Galo.</em>
</p><p>When people look at the two of them, they see a tall man, and a short mystery. They see Galo, sweaty and strong and brighter than a Jumbotron, before they see Lio, bony and bitch-faced and delicate. Outside of the club, stripped of any respect or celebration, Lio's left with a small group of friends and a recently-failed Bar exam. </p><p>Galo's left with memories. Bad coping mechanisms.</p><p>A deep well of compassion that never dries out; for worse, never better. For everyone's taking but Galo's himself.</p><p>"I don't see how it'd help at all," Lio admits, suspicious of Galo's intent. "People take collars seriously. They'll think you belong to me."</p><p>"But I do," Galo shrugs.</p><p>"Not like that."</p><p>"What if I want it like that?" he asks petulantly.</p><p>"Then I'd tell you to think about it more <em>responsibly</em>," Lio bites, tearing open a sauce packet with his teeth. "That's an awful lot of power to be giving up, Galo. Do you want people to start asking <em>me</em> for permission to talk to <em>you?</em> Get on your case for making eye contact with other Doms? 'Cuz that's what they'll do."</p><p>"Pffft, like anyone at the club is <em>that</em> high protocol. I think..." Galo counters, poking a finger at Lio's chest, "You're projecting again."</p><p>A second hot sauce packet says <strong>Be gentle.</strong></p><p>Lio hates it when Galo is right.</p><p>He squirts a line of sauce onto a cinnamon twist and crunches it with his mouth open. It's a punishment, for one of them. Maybe both of them. Galo accidentally looks at the slimy paste on Lio's tongue and gags.</p><p>"That's <em>gross</em>, dude," he complains, shielding his face. "And look, I won't make you do anything you don't wanna do. But, two things." He pauses, reaching forward to steal a cinnamon twist out of Lio's takeout bag. Reconsiders it. Nibbles it anyway. Nearly gags again.</p><p>"Well? Go on," Lio says, pleased with himself.</p><p>Galo spitefully throws the entire thing in his mouth and chews at lightning speed. He swallows hard. "Okay! One: I know what I want! I know myself, babe. Probably better than <em>you</em> know <em>yourself</em>— no offense."</p><p>Lio stares at a grease stain on a napkin. "Offense minimally taken."</p><p>"Cool," Galo ignores him. "Two: I don't see why anyone else's opinion matters. Who gives a shit if a guy wants to show he's totally dedicated to someone? Like, we're already married, what's the big deal?"</p><p>Lio wants to remind him of how many <em>shits were given</em> when Galo's college internship ended in a sexual harassment suit and four years of therapy— of what <em>dedication</em> meant to Galo then, of what he <em>actually</em> deserves in a relationship. He wants to remind Galo that he's lovely and safe. That he's <em>disgustingly</em> proud of him.<br/> <br/>That he still has trouble trusting Galo's ability to take care of himself.</p><p>(Not that Lio can talk. His judgment's just as blind and instinctual; their marriage was officiated overnight in a hotel room.)</p><p>He doesn't tell him any of this. It's not his place to point it out.</p><p>"I just think we'll confuse people," Lio settles on saying. He's hot, despite shivering off the rain a few minutes ago. He watches Galo think behind his eyes; it's always so easy to see the process as it happens. Some people call him slow. Lio knows he's simply weighing his words.</p><p>Thankfully, Galo's face relaxes, and Lio feels a hand run over his foot. He wrinkles his toes up and feels the reassuring squeeze around his ankle. </p><p>"Then let's confuse people."</p><p>***</p><p>Lio spots him across the room on Latex Night.</p><p>How could he not, with the way the man dresses? His crop top is skin-tight and fire-engine red; it was custom-made to fit his muscular torso. Lio watches the way he sways when he laughs, his voice carrying loud and happy above the chatter of the dungeon space. Lio sees the brightness in his eyes, even from here, and he knows that deep down, Galo is content.</p><p>He also notices the way people look at the gold around his neck; inquiring eyes settle on the thin, masculine chain, both ends joined together with a jeweler's padlock. <em>It's not forever</em> Lio tells himself, every time he sees Galo react to a skeptical comment. <em>It's just for now</em>. Just to see how they both like it.</p><p>The barstools on either side of Lio scrape backwards, and he's greeted with an unopened bottle of iced tea.  </p><p>"How much do I owe you?" he asks one of the newcomers, finally breaking his hypnotic gaze with Galo's shiny tits.  </p><p>"Don't worry about it," the man mutters. "I don't think your friend at the bar charged me anyway."</p><p>"He didn't," the girl agrees. Lio knows her name is Thyma now, but they'll come up with something stylish to go by later.</p><p>Lio nods. "Don't expect free drinks on the regular."</p><p>"Never said I would," the man hums, airy and painfully casual. He keeps checking the time on his Apple Watch (after being told to put his phone away) and he's obviously too nervous to talk. Honestly, Lio's impressed that he came here alone.</p><p>"So..." Thyma tries, leaning forward on her elbows. "What's Mech setting up over there?"</p><p>Across the room, Galo shakes the frame of a tall ladder, testing its balance before climbing up to the rafters. He's got a DM spotting him, and more intriguingly, a long length of bubblegum pink rope slung over his shoulder.</p><p>"Dunno," Lio shrugs. "We talked about strappado. Guess I'll find out soon enough."</p><p>Thyma nods. "So he's in charge tonight, then?"</p><p>"More or less," Lio says, twisting the cap off his iced tea. He takes a long gulp; it's cold in his throat, and he's already feeling <em>nervous</em>.</p><p>Again, to his left, Galo's coworker shifts in his seat. His glasses reflect scattered light from the tacky disco ball overhead. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."</p><p>"You're going to have to watch and learn," Lio snorts, smiling meanly. He gets that way with this guy, sometimes, but at least they never argue over anything more important than potato salad recipes.</p><p>"Touche," Remi says. "I'm just... trying to get a handle on this, that's all. Galo explained the collar thing to me earlier, but I was under the impression that it's only reserved for submissives."</p><p>Lio blinks uncomfortably at the namedrop. "It depends."</p><p>Remi stares. "I don't get it."</p><p>Luckily, <em>thankfully</em>, Galo starts waving a beefy arm, signalling that he's ready to start. He's back on the ground now, and with a distant light crowning his head like a ridiculous halo, he's almost blinding. </p><p>Lio slides off the barstool, taking his tea with him. "Then watch him submit to me," he says, before winking, crossing the room, and bowing down low and deep in front of Galo's feet.</p><p>***</p><p>As it turns out, there are a few surprises left in Galo's equipment bag after all.</p><p>First, there's a spreader bar: long, sturdy, locking. Currently forcing Lio's legs apart by the ankles, just wide enough to be uncomfortable.</p><p>Next (as previously teased during Galo's ascent to the heavenly rafters above), there's an unforgiving knotwork of rope: tying Lio's hands back between the spread of his open crotch, so that he doubles over toward the ground in front of him. His tangled wrists peek out from under his butt, acting as an anchor, rooting a taut line up to a hard point in the ceiling.</p><p>Between both of those surprises, he's forced to balance on his tiptoes, watching Galo circle around him through a messy sheet of bangs. His face feels flushed and his heart's already racing, but he's giddy, and not in a familiar way.</p><p>He hasn't been this immobilized in a while.</p><p>Galo swipes his hand across the surface of Lio's ass every time he steps behind him. There's a momentary blip, when he passes his fingers over the rope column and back onto Lio. Sometimes he changes his mind and doubles back, walking in the other direction.</p><p>Lio huffs out a breath.</p><p>"Enough with the petting zoo, <em>do</em> something already."</p><p>"Easy, short stuff," Galo chuckles, stopping directly in front of Lio's mouth. A calloused hand gently tilts his chin up. "You gonna keep giving me lip the entire time we're doing this?"</p><p>"If you're lucky enough to deserve the criticism," Lio grins, before sloppily swiping his tongue over Galo's thumb. They both break out into giggles when Galo draws his hand back and shakes it in the air.</p><p>"Why are you so gross! <em>Eww,</em>" he teases Lio, using his cheek as a napkin. Lio squishes his face into the pressure of his hand.</p><p>"I love you," he tells Galo. "Hurry up."</p><p>A couch nearby exhales as bodies fill it up with weight. Lio can't see much with his head forced forward in a permanent bow, but he does notice multiple sets of shoes accumulating around the play area. As he waits for Galo to shimmy out of his crop top, he's suddenly <em>very</em> self-conscious about his own wardrobe— latex panties on bottom, zippered turtleneck on top. With his ass in the air and Galo teasing a pull at his underwear, Lio shifts away uncomfortably.</p><p>"Wait," he says, dropping his voice down low. "Keep those on."</p><p>He isn't ready to be naked there yet— not in front of Remi, who Galo invited after accidentally discovering his OnlyFans page.</p><p>"Okay," Galo agrees, retreating. He takes the opportunity to playfully slap his butt instead. "What about the shirt?"</p><p>Lio thinks for a second. "That can come off." He's small enough not to care about his chest much. His arms are hiding most of it, anyway.</p><p>"Rad," Galo grins, before toying at the zipper's edge. He hesitates, and decides to employ his mouth instead, leaning in to slowly drag the zipper along the length of Lio's back. Every few inches he pauses to lick against newly-exposed flesh, sucking hickies down his spine, until he finally pops the top open. It folds down with gravity, and Lio shudders against the air-conditioning.</p><p>"Cold?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Good," Galo nods. "Let's get you warmed up!"</p><p>The third surprise that Galo unearths from his equipment bag is a seemingly innocent silicone slapper: thin, wobbly, and soft to the touch. It tapers down to an arrowhead point. Lio mentally prepares himself, wiggling sideways on his tiptoes, as Galo gently brushes it back and forth over his shoulderblades.</p><p>Then: he snaps it down, hard and quick. Lio hisses out a breath.</p><p>"That okay?" Galo asks, going back to a pulse, flopping the slapper down without any real pressure.</p><p><em>Plap, plap, plap</em>.</p><p>Lio sees Thyma and Remi sit on the floor. The couches are filled up.</p><p>"Harder," Lio decides, with something important to prove.</p><p>The dragontail strikes him again, and sharp, stinging pain erupts on his back. Five easy pulses follow on either side of his shoulders. Galo prides himself on being unpredictable, but he's just as good at staying consistent. It's sweet, when he's careful. It's hot, when he pretends he isn't.</p><p>Another hit. Another breath.</p><p>"I thought I said <em>harder</em>," Lio grunts, straining against the rope.</p><p>"That <em>was</em> harder," Galo spits. "Stop being a brat." He fights back with a playfully cruel strike, and Lio makes an embarrassing noise that shamefully turns himself on.</p><p>Eventually, some of his hair falls forward out of his ponytail, obscuring his peripheral vision. He's left to watch Galo's legs hunt around him, anticipating his strikes with only the dubious rhythm he keeps supplying between them.</p><p><em>Snap</em>. Predictable. <em>Snap.</em> Five gentle swings again. <em>Snap</em>— then an unexpected, immediate <em>snap</em> again.</p><p>Lio gasps— loudly. Helplessly.</p><p>"Do it on my ass," he huffs, knowing he can handle it better there, keep his own reactions in check.</p><p>Unfortunately, Galo listens.</p><p><em>Thwack!</em>— twice as hard, under the cheek. Lio jerks forward, carrying the lightest of moans in his throat, but Galo steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. Then he's back to striking him on the back, ignoring Lio's commands.</p><p>"Beggars can't be choosers, Ruin," Galo laughs, sliding into his showy persona. He pauses, stepping back from Lio completely, and empties his nearby glass of ice water. </p><p>Lio feels a red mood bubbling in his gut— competition, maybe, or envy. He squares his jaw and smiles grimly at the floor. "But you haven't made me beg yet, <em>honey</em>."</p><p>Someone in the crowd whistles. Galo's glass clinks against the floor as he leans down on his knees, right in front of Lio. His bright, blue eyes are already blown dark and wide. </p><p>"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being rude, huh," he says quietly, pressing their foreheads together. He softly runs his fingers through Lio's hanging hair. "Kiss and make up?"</p><p>Lio narrows his eyes.</p><p>"What are you doing," he hums suspiciously. </p><p>Galo tilts his head sideways and kisses him, soft and warm and yummy— his lips are still wet from his water glass, and he grips his weapon with both hands behind Lio's neck, pulling them together with a gentle urgency—</p><p>Lio parts his lips as the kiss deepens, and then he's betrayed.</p><p>Galo slides an ice cube into his mouth.</p><p>He feels his face drop in shock and outrage as Galo quickly retreats. He's laughing his <em>ass</em> off.</p><p><em>I am going to WRECK you, Thymos</em>, Lio thinks, legs quivering, arms straining against their bonds in delightful fury.</p><p>And that's what they wanted, wasn't it? A rage and a fight; an instigation of nerves. A way to break down their names and their roles, letting the process decide their identities for them. Lio's balanced in thin air, feet barely pressing against the floor. He's his own counterweight, and his arms keep rubbing up against his clit— he finds himself grinding down every time Galo strikes him. He finds himself wanting to break him in return.</p><p>So he does.</p><p>He starts to bite Galo's hips every time he comes near enough. He wiggles and shoulders and spits on him, so that Galo's forced to retaliate by smacking him harder. His hair gets tugged and his breath gets stolen when Galo enforces a punishment; every time Lio tries to breathe, he's frenched harder. More forcefully. </p><p>Lio considers calling yellow when it starts to make him dizzy, but something deep inside his chest— pride, or curiosity— won't let him do it.</p><p>When's the last time he's reached this edge?</p><p>Instead, he kisses Galo's stomach. It's a messy apology, and he repeats it every time Galo threatens to step back for good— leave Lio hanging there, shins shaking, cunt dripping.</p><p>He hears himself say "hit yourself first," when Galo swaps out for a flogger, and he peers up beneath his bangs, watching, as Galo does what he's told. One on his own back. Ten on Lio's. They're laughing at the look of it, when they're not sucking air in through their teeth.</p><p>"Gimme a color, Boss," Galo eventually says, after his swings gradually intensify. Lio's knees have long since gone slack, but he's held up by rope and sheer willpower. "You doin' good down there?"</p><p>Lio cracks the knuckles of his toes, eyes closed. "Yeah. Green." He's starting to feel a fuzz around his body, the kind he swims in when things stop hurting after a while.</p><p>"Cool," Galo answers, breath shallow. He steps in close again, and Lio wonders if he knows— if he can tell Lio's bullshitting his limits.</p><p>"Are <em>you</em> doing okay?" Lio asks, sucking a wet kiss against his forearm. Galo's so good. He's trying so hard. His arm's salty with sweat, and glistening under the lights.</p><p>"Hell yeah," Galo chuckles, rubbing over the spot he'd just struck a moment before. If Lio had to describe what love felt like— what dedication was, as a tactile sensation— he'd describe the feeling of Galo's fingertips rubbing circles into his skin. He must've called Lio's bluff. </p><p>"I wanna finish by maxing out, is that okay? Can you take it right now?" he asks, and <em>of course</em> Lio can take it. He's pushing his boundaries, but he's pushing them in good company. He's bent over, leaking out around his underwear and exposed to a roomful of strangers, and he's doing this for his ego. </p><p>
  <em>Doing this for Galo.</em>
</p><p>Lio tenderly grazes his teeth along his husband's arm; it's all he can do, right now. He's got his mouth and his words and his body to use as a tool, making Galo look good. Helping Galo feel in control, even when he's not. </p><p>And he's <em>not</em>.</p><p>"Do what you want," Lio commands him. He looks up and catches the glint of gold around Galo's neck, a silly-yet-serious promise to serve and protect him. "You're in charge, here."</p><p>So Galo does what he wants. He pinches the meat of Lio's bare thighs, makes him cry out demands and groveling words. He strikes with more force, with less time between swings, and he's choosy with timing and precision. There's heat on Lio's back, on his legs— his own cum sticking to his inner thighs, his wrists— and every time Galo makes him count the hits out loud, one, two, <em>three, hard,</em> Lio takes it, and makes sure to reward him.</p><p>"<em>Good,</em>" Lio pants, voice cracking. "Fuck<em>.</em> <em>Good boy.</em> Oh my god."</p><p>Galo breathes. Swings his arm down, and drops his flogger back near his equipment bag. "Thank you, 'bug," he says, squatting down. Kissing Lio on the lips for real, this time. "We're done. You did good too."</p><p>"For you," Lio smiles, eyes screwed shut. His legs wobble hard underneath him. His ears are ringing. "You did so good, Galo."</p><p>Mech chuckles, and motions for a DM. </p><p>It takes a long time to unravel Lio, or maybe it doesn't. Who can tell anymore? They're both dazed and disconnected from everything else. His hands come free first, and together, they slowly roll the stiffness out of his wrists and shoulders. Then Galo has him lean forward, curling around his big, sticky chest, while he works to unlatch Lio's ankle cuffs.</p><p>His hair gets pushed back. He sees blush high on Thyma's cheeks, and Remi pointedly watching the wall. He sees people he's topped, and people he's never met before, all dissolving into the crowd. Galo supplies a forehead smooch, and Lio forgets that he cares what anyone thinks.</p><p>"I think you should collar me," is the honest, vulnerable sentence that causes Galo to choke out a laugh.</p><p>"Damn, you're <em>feeling</em> it right now, aren't you," he teases Lio, gently dabbing a cool rag against his neck. "Maybe think about it when you're not mentally on Mars."</p><p>"Spare me the lecture, Galo Thymos," Lio mumbles, leaning into the touch. "I want it, okay?"</p><p>He lets himself be lifted onto the nearest couch. It's been cleared of spectators, until somebody wants to use the hard point after them. Then, it'll inevitably fill up with people again. An ebb and flow of excitement and rest.</p><p>"Thought you wanted to avoid confusing people," Galo hums, tucking Lio against him. "People like it when they know what to expect just by lookin' at you."</p><p>And Galo is right, again. Always right. Always in control of himself, even when he's not.</p><p>Lio looks at the padlock on his chest, and his blue, happy eyes. He's so lucky to know every part of him.</p><p>"Then let's fucking <em>confuse people."</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! I hope everyone is staying well. This was campy and shameless and I wanted it so I wrote it. Note that I'm not an authority on anything included in this fic.</p><p>This is probably closer to a swinger's club than a dungeon, hence the bar. I don't personally advise combining alcohol and bdsm.</p><p>This was weirdly hard to write (5 drafts??) and I hope it was fun to read... ahhhh</p><p>Promare twitter @gladburnish (18+) come talk to me about Them</p></blockquote></div></div>
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